


Affection is a Weed

by withoutwingsx



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen is british, Allen needs to get a life, Allen sneaks into beds often, Gayness, Kanda has a dirty mouth, Kanda has a stalker, Kanda is an obvious homosexual, Komui with a sister complex, Lavi molests schedules, M/M, Yaoi, Yullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwingsx/pseuds/withoutwingsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanda has issues. Allen has issues. Everyone has issues. Allen likes to sneak into Kanda's life, and right now Kanda really doesn't care. The british prick can do whatever he wants. Not to say he doesn't like it though. Allen is also a total stalker, but honestly it kinda turns Kanda on. Yep. Kanda must be going insane, he is going to be a teacher of all things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affection is a Weed

**Author's Note:**

> This. Is. Amazing.  
> In my opinion.

So, my name is Kanda Yuu. But if you call me Yuu, you better pray to whatever gods you believe in.  
I consider myself to be a decent person, sure I hate a lot of things, including family, and friends, and well….  
Never mind. The point is I am me. And I like how my life is, well, was.  
All before those two idiots jumped my schedule and molested it to the point of no return. Somehow they also proclaimed themselves my friends. Usually, I want to kill them all. But to be honest, sometimes they aren’t that bad. Emphasis on sometimes.  
And today, they made it on my hate list, or at least that Idiot Rabbit did. I cannot stay mad at Lenalee, because first her brother would castrate me, and second I am polite to girls. I still have my honor, after all.  
So anyway, the red headed bucket of ugly decided to bring a new counterpart into our little… group.  
And I can honestly say, I hated him from the first look.  
So the faggot bunny drags over this guy, holding his hand mind you, and at first glance I felt my forehead throbbing. Instant headache, all from that horrible smile stretched across that pale face.  
Then, I noticed behind that wide grin. He was cute, overly cute for a guy. With these big sparkly grey eyes and a little nose, he could easily pass for a female. And, the fag had this medium length white hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, pieces falling in his face.  
And did I mention the weirdest part? He had this creepy tattoo covering his left eye.  
And don’t get me started on what he was wearing. A pair of pants that were overly tight and screamed GAY for the world to see. Then a white shirt, and a black vest with this little bow tied around the collar. And he had gloves on. This whole, walking faggot, screamed homo.  
Not that I have a problem with that. I admit, I have known for a while I am a homosexual. I mean, girls, with the exception of Lenalee (in case Komui has discovered a way to read minds), are whinny, annoying, clingy and cry a lot. I need someone who will fight back, maybe beat me up a bit. And I knew this guy, was so not it. But boy, was I wrong.  
Instantly I turned my nose up at that, that beansprout, and refused to spend another gaze on him.  
And then something hit the table, and there was the boy, all up in my face.  
“Excuse we, but isn’t the polite thing to do is say hello?” He asked me. And I was about to scream. He had a fucking British accent. The hell! But no, the shrimp wasn’t done. “Oh, well I guess an uncivilized brute like you wouldn’t understand politeness. Sorry, wanker.” Then he took a seat across for me and just smiled. At me. It was seriously annoying.  
Of course, usually I would have scowled and mumbled my usual response, but this kid was asking for it.  
“Excuse me, beansprout, but no one said I had to be polite to fags.” See, this is why I didn’t talk. My stupid heritage left me this damn speech problem. I couldn’t say Ls, or even Vs. It was kind of embarrassing, and I cursed my gay ass Japanese accent. But the boy just smiled and tilted that girly head.  
“So you are saying, you aren’t polite to yourself? You should probably get some better self-confidence then.” The rabbits jaw dropped and I swear, I growled. I was truly about to lunge over that table and bash his head into the floor, but a hand on my arm stopped me. Stupid Lenalee.  
And then, the faggot, held out his hand and grinned once more, but something seemed to change in his smile. Almost like, a challenge was in his eyes. And I, Kanda Yuu, never back down from a challenge.  
“Sorry for being so impolite,” he said as he stretched the gloved appendage toward me, “I am Allen, Allen Walker. It is nice to meet you.”  
I shook that stupid hand, attempting to break it but the sprout just laughed.  
“Kanda.” I mumbled and dropped the rock hard appendage, seriously. What the hell?  
So that was how I found myself hanging around the stupid beansprout, and discovered he lived literally next to me. So I would hear this 80’s shit flying out of his window and I, I wanted to strangle him. Sometimes even piano music would reach my ears, and I faint sound of singing. I had to admit, he was rather good.  
But, I never told him.   
He lived with some dumbass, a red haired man who I observed driving recklessly into the driveway at one in the morning, usually his car packed full of giggling and drunk women.  
Then, in the morning, I would hear screaming from what sounded like Allen and scolding, I am pretty sure, aimed at his guardian.  
So it really wasn’t a surprise when I got a knock on my door around dinner time the following day, and Allen asked if he could study. In my house. Well, I really was shocked that he had the guts to ask me, but I let him in nonetheless. His excuse, something about too much noise and then he went off in a rant about Cross, I guess that was the name of the red-haired womanizer.  
So really, I should have expected that we became almost friends. And I also should have expected the bloody noses, the black eyes and the broken fingers that came along with our friendship.  
He was a stubborn asshole, and so was I. And I really can’t lie, but sometimes I wished that I hadn’t had met him. Because honestly, I felt like there was more to us. He had all the characteristics of the person I was looking for, and I hated him for it.  
Sure, we could get along just fine, but underneath it really we really just wanted to get at the others throat. Or, at least I wanted to.  
The first time we kissed was a dare. Neither of us wanted to back down, so we did it. Just a peck, quick and to the point. I felt his discomfort, and I am sure he felt mine. And that is how it started.  
Who could freak the other out, make them feel awkward, make them feel weak. When we would fight, it was now a contest on who could make the other the most uncomfortable.   
Who could shut the other up.  
And damn, that white haired faggot won. Grabbing my hand in pubic, kissing me on the doorstep. Heck, even creeping into my room and sleeping in my bed. And I have to admit, sometimes I didn’t feel as lonely.  
So when Allen met someone, a guy by the name of, whatever, I forgot. The point is, I felt an emotion never before felt by the stoic Kanda Yuu, Jealousy.   
But the contest never stopped. The kissing, the holding hands, the close moments never stopped. And I knew that there was more to it.  
So when I overheard a conversation, I knew that I was screwed. There was Allen, yelling at his boyfriend, and the worst part was it was about me.  
Allen had chosen the contest, the war, and the feelings with me over his boyfriend. And that was when we had kissed, the first real kiss.  
We both knew that this wasn’t just a friendship, hell we were barely civil. But I, I wanted it to be more.  
Honestly, I liked the feeling of having someone close.  
So when I went off to college, it was no surprise that a year later I woke up to find a few bags littering my apartment and a white haired sprout asleep on my couch.  
How the hell was I supposed to explain this to my roommate? The only way I could afford this decent place was through sharing it.   
But of course Allen saved the day, and decided he would move in. Yeah, move in. Into my room.  
Then began the screams, the fights, and the broken arm. Waking up to that short stack attempting to snuggle with his pillow. And for the second time in my life, I was jealous. Of that pillow.  
So I pushed him out of my bed. And then we got into another fight. Only one of the many that resulted in spilled blood and usually a kiss. A sorry, oops, and I missed you kiss.  
And I grew used to Allen once more. Because I had missed him. I had missed him more than I missed my family, friends and childhood. Which honestly wasn’t saying much, but still. Maybe I didn’t hate Allen Walker.  
So soon I finished college, and was off to find a job. And for two years I taught stupid, annoying, snotty nosed high school brats self-defense in one of the best high schools across the country.  
And I missed him. I missed my beansprout.  
So why, WHY? Why the hell wasn’t I surprised to wake up with arms around my waist during the second quarter of the third year I had been teaching. And attached to those arms was a messy haired beansprout. Yes, the same beansprout that was now the music teacher.  
I was mad, no. I was furious. But at the same time I was excited, happy and satisfied. Because I had missed him.  
And I didn’t even mind when he dropped by during his lunch to watch my class. I didn’t mind when he stared at me dreamily from the clear glass window, and I didn’t care about the rumors the snotty nosed kids had spread.  
Because he didn’t care about my longing looks from the teacher lounge, he didn’t mind when I randomly kissed him, and he didn’t care when I hid all the pillows.  
He didn’t even ask why. And I swear something exploded in my chest when I woke up that morning and I was being used as a replacement for the fluffy clouds that were hidden in the closet.  
I didn’t mind his annoyingly happy attitude, or his comebacks, or even when he decided to try and beat me up.  
Because, I had found the person I was looking for, and if I had to deal with beansprouts, late night planning and grading kids’ music sheets as their teacher was passed out at the dining room table, then I would.  
Because the truth was, I loved that annoying, aggravating and fucking overly happy beansprout. And that walking blob of bullshit, messy hair and too tight pants loved me too.  
Oh, and for the record. I still hate him.

**Author's Note:**

> Potatoes.


End file.
